


Always Thinking of You

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fremione - Freeform, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: Fred is finding it hard to accept that the love of his life is gone





	Always Thinking of You

_“You’re chasing after the wrong Weasley,” Fred shouted to Hermione’s departing figure._

_She stopped and Fred waited with bated breath to see if she’d respond. When she finally turned to face him, he was shocked to find a smile on her face._

_Hermione Granger did not take particularly well to being told what she should, or should not do, but Fred had held his tongue long enough and decided to throw himself on the chopping block. He hoped his bollocks survived his impetuousness._

_Not saying a word, Hermione started walking back to where he was awkwardly shuffling his feet over the gravel of his parents’ drive. The autumn wind whipped across the garden, sending her cascade of curls swirling about her head. She turned the collar of her coat up and pressed on until she was toe to toe with Fred._

_He tried not to let himself get lost in the smell of jasmine and rosemary radiating from her and bit back a moan when her tongue darted out to wet her chapped lips._

_“What did you say to me, Fred Weasley?” Hermione asked with an eerie calmness._

_Fred gulped and repeated, “You’re chasing after the wrong Weasley.”_

_“I appreciate your concern, but I know exactly which Weasley I’m chasing after.”_

_“You’ll only end up heartbroken.”_

_Hermione chuckled and strode past Fred to lean on the stone barrier wall that separated the garden from the orchards. Summoning the last of his Gryffindor courage, he followed in her footsteps and came to stand beside her._

_“Exactly which Weasley do you think I’m chasing?” she asked, her gaze never leaving the trees laden with the final harvest of apples, waiting to be picked._

_“Really? Your flirting wasn’t exactly subtle.” Fred let out an irritated huff and turned his back to lean against the wall. “You were practically groping Ron all through dinner. Touching his arm, brushing your hips up against his, laying your head on his shoulder every chance you got. You’re lucky Luna is such a sweetheart and wouldn’t dream of jinxing you.”_

_Hermione shifted so that she was finally looking at Fred. Her face was unreadable as she assessed him with her intense mocha-colored eyes._

_“So, it’s the not-so-subtle flirting that gets your attention,” she murmured, running her hand down his arm, her chilled fingertips lingering on the top of his hand. “That’s good to know.”_

_As Fred struggled to find his voice, she pushed away from the wall, her hip grazing against his, and started back down the drive._

_“Hold up!” Fred called, running after her. He touched her shoulder and she stopped to look back at him. “What was that?”_

_“I told you,” she said, leaning in to give his cheek a soft, chaste kiss. “I know exactly which Weasley I’m chasing.”_

 

Fred splashed cold water over his freshly shaven face and leaned over the sink, hands gripping either side of the white porcelain. Eyes closed, he took several steadying breaths as water dripped from the end of his nose and lashes.

Finally straightening back up, he scrubbed a hand towel over his face, then tossed it to the dirty laundry basket. He missed and it landed atop a pile of clothes that had been building up for the past few days. His mum had come by to check in on him and begged him to let her help clean up the dingy little flat, but he refused. There was comfort in the chaos. It aptly reflected his current mental state.

He grabbed the last clean work robe from his wardrobe and tossed it over his arm. As he headed for the door, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and stopped for a moment. His eyes were bloodshot, highlighted by dark half-moons below his lids. He poked a finger against a jutting cheekbone. When was the last time he had eaten? Yesterday? The day before that? He made a mental note to have a sandwich before his mother started force feeding him. Running a hand through his shaggy, unkempt hair, he let out a sigh. He looked exactly as he felt- crazy and tired.

‘Make it through today,’ he told himself, starting down the stairs. Once everything was done and final, maybe he would be able to regain his normal life or at least a semblance of it. Fred was looking forward to putting it all behind him and finding relief from the deluge of bloody memories. Happy or sad, each one was painful. Whether he was reliving it for the first or thousandth time, they left him feeling raw and on edge.

There was still an hour before Weasley's Wizard Wheezes opened for Saturday business. Fred dropped his robe on the counter and summoned the stack of new promotional posters. If he set his mind to something productive then it couldn’t sabotage him with the past.

And it worked. Fred hung posters and put together the new display cases. He stocked the shelves and did the morning count, making sure the till was ready. As he dropped a handful of Galleons into the drawer, several hit the edge and fell to the floor, rolling under the counter. Fred knelt down and swiped his hand underneath, pulling out the gold but also unearthing a decade’s worth of dust bunnies and rubbish.

Tossing the Galleons into the register, Fred was a second away from Vanishing the debris when a small, familiar square of paper caught his eye. He picked it up, his eyes instantly prickling with impending tears. The stupid little movie stub unleashed a flood of memories and Fred succumbed to the deluge.

 

_Each date ended with the pair snogging at the side entrance to Hermione’s house. Fred had been yearning to take things further for a month, but he didn’t want her to think he was pushing her too fast. That night, though, she surprised him._

_“I don’t want you to go home yet,” Hermione whispered against his mouth._

_“Where do you want me to go?” Fred replied, nipping at her pouty bottom lip._

_“How about we start with my kitchen, for a cuppa?” she suggested, pulling him through the door._

_“A cuppa?” Fred breathed, his tone of disappointment not lost on Hermione._

_“Just for starters.”_

_He watched her sashay down the hallway and turn into the kitchen. Her hips were hypnotic and it took her calling his name for Fred to snap out of his trance and hurry to the kitchen._

_Hermione had taken him to the cinema that evening and introduced him to Muggle films. After showing him the lineup of movie posters, she’d let him decide which film they would see. Fred wanted something exciting, filled with action so that he could get the full effect of Muggle technology, so he had chosen a film called X-Men. As they purchased snacks, Hermione explained that the film was based off a long-running comic book series about people that had extraordinary powers. The chance to see Muggles’ perception of magic intrigued Fred even more._

_He sat at her kitchen table twirling the ticket stub between his fingers when she set a steaming mug of tea in front of him._

_“Thanks.” Fred glanced down and quirked his lips. “What’s floating in there?” he asked, prodding the green sprigs in his drink._

_“Thyme, with a little bit of honey,” Hermione answered, claiming the chair beside him. He took a tentative sip and sighed as a warmth spread over his body. Hermione gave him a knowing grin and took a sip from her own mug. “So, what did you think?” she asked, nodding at the ticket._

_“It was brilliant,” Fred said, launching into a commentary on all of his favorite parts. Hermione patiently listened as he rehashed the film, bit by bit, and at the end promised to take him to a Muggle comic book shop. “Really? You like comics?”_

_“They’re not my preferred reading material, but I’ve come across a few series that I’ve enjoyed and that didn’t paint the female characters as big-bosomed wank material.”_

_Fred snorted his tea and Hermione laughed, handing him a napkin. Spewing tea from his nose had been painful, but hearing Hermione’s laugh was worth it. He loved her laugh and wanted to listen to it every second of the day. He especially loved how the action lit up her face and revealed the faintest of dimples on her right cheek._

_Hermione hummed as her laughter faded and ran a hand through her hair, sweeping the curls to one side, only for them to spring right back to their original position._

_“You’re so beautiful,” Fred whispered and his stomach fluttered as a blush burned up her cocoa skin. Before she could refute his compliment, he cupped her face and drew her lips to his._

_Her mouth parted letting him in and Fred almost came undone by the simple purr that escaped her throat._

_“Are you done with your tea?” Hermione asked softly, running her hands under Fred’s jumper._

_“Completely,” he said, standing up and pulling her into his arms. “Would you like to show me your room?”_

_“Yes, but I warn you. There is a very strict dress code.”_

_“What does that consist of?”_

_“Absolutely no trousers,” she said, stripping his belt from his waist and tossing it across the tile floor with an echoing clang. He gaped down at her. He hadn’t even noticed her undoing the buckle._

_That night together was unlike any Fred had ever had. Every curve of Hermione’s body was gorgeous. Each moan, whimper, and keen of hers pulsed through his body, threatening an early unraveling. Every time Fred thought he couldn’t hold himself together anymore, Hermione would slow her ministrations down, allowing his mind to reform before she started pulling him back to the maddening edge._

_She sat astride his lap, her nails greedily clawing his back as she grinded her hips against him and her lips sucked a trail along the base of his neck._

_“Now, Fred, please,” she begged, panting against his collarbone. “Please, Fred.”_

_Fred reached between them and with two strokes over her center, Hermione’s walls came crashing down around him. He bit into his bottom lip as he thrust deeper inside her, crying out her name with his own release._

_With a quaking body, Hermione collapsed into his arms and he gently laid back on the bed, clutching her soundly and brushing sweaty tendrils of hairs from her face. While Hermione’s breathing slowed, Fred traced the smattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose with his index finger. As he reached the bridge of her nose, she tilted her head back and caught his finger between her teeth._

_Gazing into her deep brown eyes, Fred couldn’t stop the words from tumbling off his tongue._

_“I love you.”_

_Much to his relief she grinned, kissed his fingertip, and whispered, “I love you, too.”_

 

Fred sniffed and furiously rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes until bright spots started erupting behind his lids. He desperately wished there was a switch he could flick on his brain that would put him on autopilot.

“It’s just another day,” Fred said, taking a deep breath. “Get your arse off the floor and get on with it.”

Pushing himself to his feet, he shoved the ticket stub into his pocket, vanished the dirt and dust, and then deposited the runaway Galleons in the register. He would make it through this day and not have a complete meltdown in front of the customers.

The bell above the shop door jingled and Fred looked up to see Verity walk in. As she shook out her short blond hair, he noticed that it had started to rain since his brief breakdown. The grey clouds seemed like an appropriate final touch to the day.

“Hello, Mr. Weasley,” Verity greeted, hanging her cloak up in the stockroom before returning to the counter. “I wasn’t expecting you today. Your brother said you would both be gone for the--”

Fred held up his hand, stopping the assistant before she could finish her sentence. Verity nodded in understanding and patted his hand.

“Sorry,” she said softly.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I can’t--I’m not--” Fred cleared his throat and said, “I’ll be here today with you. It’s bound to busy with school starting up next week.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Weasley. I can handle it. You really should go--”

“No, I’m not,” Fred snapped, interrupting the young woman once more. He immediately felt guilty and his shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Verity. I just need to get through today and work is a good way to occupy my mind.”

“I understand. Would you like me to work the till and you can take the floor?”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

The dreary weather didn’t deter the young wizards and witches from their school shopping. Fred ended up standing at the entrance and treating incoming customers to a quick drying spell so that the shop floor didn’t turn into a skating rink. Small talk with customers combined with watching the younger kids, clad in bright raincoats, running past and jumping in puddles kept Fred’s mind focused on the tasks at hand. It was perfect up until lunchtime.

Verity had just returned with soup and sandwiches from The Leaky Cauldron and Fred had flipped the store sign to CLOSED for the lunch hour. He had taken two bites of his sandwich when the stockroom Floo sounded and his twin emerged from the backroom. He was wearing deep purple dress robes, his best dragonhide boots, and had his hair nicely combed and stylishly parted to the side.

“Why are you in your work robes? We have to get going or we’ll be late,” George said, motioning at Fred to get moving.

“I just remembered, I never got to finish inventory last night,” Verity said, hopping out of her chair and darting past George to the stockroom. Fred knew that wasn’t true, but he appreciated her ability to read the situation.

“I’m not going,” Fred said, taking a swig of Butterbeer.

George sighed and moved to stand in front of Fred. “You promised her.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure she’s used to me breaking my promises by now,” Fred muttered, shoving a quarter of his sandwich into his mouth.

“Fred, listen, I know--”

“No, you don’t know, George!” Fred snapped. “I can’t handle seeing her like that. I thought I could, but I can’t.” Tears he had been holding back all day broke free and ran down his cheeks. “I was an idiot and did things that I can’t change and now I have to deal with knowing that she’s not part of my life anymore. The first step in that is making it through today without completely falling apart. So far, I’m doing great.” He let out a morose laugh and buried his hands in his face.

George sat in silence while Fred composed himself. In the end, he patted Fred’s shoulder and nodded. “Okay, Freddy. You do what you have to, mate. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

His brother started to walk back to the stockroom, but Fred jumped up and called him back.

“Can you just do me a favor?” he asked, digging into his pocket and pulling out the ticket stub. “Give this to her and let her know...tell her I love her,” he whispered.

George nodded once more before taking the ticket and disappearing behind the curtain. When he heard the whoosh of the Floo, Fred flopped back into his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He was vaguely aware of Verity’s return, but she said nothing and resumed her lunch as if there had been no interruption.

Fred was concentrating on the sound of the second hand on the clock ticking away when Verity finally spoke, jarring him from his fixation.

“Nobody would fault you if you closed the shop early today,” Verity said softly.

Fred didn’t say anything right away. His first instinct was to say no and that he was fine. But the obvious truth was that he wasn’t. It felt like forever since he had been even close to fine.

It was his fault. He’d consistently been pushing people away for a while now, just going through the motions. Everyone around him insisted on trying to console him and make him feel better, but it was more than he deserved. He had hurt the person that meant the most to him and now she was gone. If no one else was going to punish him for that, he would have to do it himself.

“You know what, yeah, I think that’s a good call,” Fred finally admitted, rubbing his hands over his face. He let out a long sigh and let his hands drop to his side. “My head just isn’t in it today.”

Verity gave him a sad smile and hugged him. “Want me to stick around? We can play chess or I can help you start on the new batch of snack boxes.”

“No, thank you,” Fred said, patting her back. He stepped back and wiped his eyes. “Go enjoy your afternoon. No need to hang around here with a mopey bugger.”

“If you’re sure. You know where to find me if you need to talk,” she said, summoning her coat.

Fred walked Verity to the door and watched as she conjured an umbrella and started up the street. When she had disappeared into the crowd of waterlogged shoppers, he locked the door once more and pulled down the blind. With a wave of his wand, the rest of the blinds dropped, throwing the shop into a dismal darkness. Slumping back to the counter, he let his head drop and it was almost like he could feel her fingers running through his hair.

_Fred was on his way to falling asleep as his head rested on Hermione’s lap and she ran her fingers through his hair._

_“Oh, next Saturday Lee got tickets for me, him, and George to the Canons versus Tornados match,” he said sleepily._

_Her fingers stilled and he knew that he’d said something wrong._

_“What’s wrong?” he asked, opening his eyes._

_Hermione let out a sigh and stood up, letting Fred’s head fall onto the couch. He sat up rubbing his neck as she walked to the kitchen._

_“Hermione?”_

_“Hannah and Neville’s wedding is next Saturday,” she called back._

_“Oh, yeah, I forgot that was coming up,” he sighed, standing up and following her. “I’ll let Lee know he can give my ticket to someone else.”_

_Hermione slammed the fridge door, making Fred cringe. She pulled a glass from the cabinet and slammed the cabinet door._

_“What’s wrong?” he asked again, taking a step back as she started pouring pumpkin juice and slammed down the pitcher, sloshing juice over the rim. “It’s just a Quidditch game. I--”_

_“It’s not just a Quidditch game, Fred!” Hermione cried. She braced her hands against the counter and hung her head. After a few deep breaths, she asked, “What are we doing here?”_

_“I--I don’t know,” Fred answered. “I thought we were having a nice relaxing evening, but now we’re arguing over a stupid Quidditch match. Sorry, darling, but I’m a bit lost here.”_

_“I’m not upset about the match. It’s your priorities. I feel like I’m steadily falling down the list.”_

_“Because I forgot about a wedding?”_

_“Because it feels like me and my plans are always an afterthought, if I’m even a thought at all lately,” she sobbed._

_“How can you say that? Of course you’re my number one priority!” Fred insisted, moving to her side and rubbing her back. “I’m sorry I had a brain-dead moment and forgot where we were on the calendar.”_

_“It’s not just this instance, Fred. Forgetting the wedding is just the final straw on the camel’s back.” She held up her left hand and said, “We’ve been engaged for almost two years. When are we going to set a date?”_

_“You want to set a date? Fine, let’s get married tomorrow. Next week? Next month? Pick a day, I’ll be there!”_

_“How romantic. Marriage aside, when are you going to finally move in with me?” she asked, backing away from him._

_“When are you going to move in with me?” he countered._

_“We talked about this Fred--”_

_“And I never said I was moving out!”_

_“Why?! Why do you want to stay in this dingy, one room flat when I already own an actual house?”_

_“Because this is my home!” Fred yelled. “I like it here and don’t want to change.”_

_“And there it is,” Hermione whispered, pushing past him._

_“Hermione, wait!”_

_Fred darted back to the living room and grabbed her arm before she could reach for her coat._

_“No, Fred, I’m tired of waiting. Do you know how hard it is to go to all of our friends' and family’s weddings and get asked when we’ll be next? How awful it feels when I can only plaster on a smile and shrug my shoulders? I want to get married. I want to start a family. But what I really want is to be with someone that wants to do the same.”_

_“Hermione,” Fred whispered, tears pricking his eyes. “I love you.”_

_She gently pulled her arm from his grasp and rested her forehead against his._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered, placing a kiss on his head before dropping her engagement ring on the table and walking out._

 

Fred woke, with his head on the counter, to the sun setting and the rain still falling. His neck and back were aching thanks to his awkward sleeping position, so he stumbled to the stockroom to search for a pain potion. He had just pulled a vial from the drawer when there was a banging on the front door.

“Closed,” Fred groaned, downing the potioned. He raised his arms on his head, stretching out his back muscles as the potion worked its magic. Someone knocked on the door again. “Merlin, can’t you read the sign?”

He slowly made his way back out to the shop, lighting the lamps to a soft glow as he walked. There was another knock as he reached the door. He pulled up the blind, ready to send away a hopeful customer but was left momentarily speechless.

Hermione stood on the other side of the door, wearing a wedding dress and drenched to the bone. Her head was bent and she was rubbing her hands up and down her arms. When she caught sight of Fred, she paused for a moment before giving him a small wave.

Fred opened the door but just stood and stared. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t positive if this was real or if he was still actually asleep on the counter and dreaming. It had been about a year since he had seen or spoken to Hermione and he was afraid that saying something might make her disappear.

“Hey,” he finally said, lamely.

“You weren’t there,” she called over the pounding rain.

“I know.”

“You said you would be there.”

“I know,” Fred said again.

He stepped back and held the door open, gesturing for her to come inside. He closed the door, shutting out the roar of the rain, and Hermione performed a quick drying spell, bringing her wild curls back to life.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Finding out the reason you didn’t come,” she answered, crossing her arms.

“Why do you think, Hermione? Do you think I was excited to attend my ex-fiance’s wedding?”

“But you promised--”

“I’m sorry!” Fred cried, turning and stalking to the other side of the shop. “But I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t sit there and watch him standing in the spot I should be in! I couldn’t handle watching him give you all the things I should have! I screwed up, again. Nothing you’re not used to, though, right?”

“Fred--”

“Hermione, why are you here?” Fred interrupted, unable to hide the slight irritation he was feeling at that moment. It wasn’t so much that he was irritated with her, but more with the fact that her presence was making it hard to reach his goal of moving on.

“Because I woke up today planning on marrying a man I thought I was in love with. I was minutes away from walking down the aisle when a one-eared redhead barged in, insisting he had an urgent delivery and message.” Hermione reached into the bodice of her dress and pulled out the ticket stub Fred had given to George earlier.

Fred ran a hand over his face and rested it on his neck. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to overstep any boundaries. I couldn’t go, but I wanted you to know I was thinking about you.” He sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m always thinking about you.”

“Do you still love me?” she asked bluntly.

“I’ve always loved you,” Fred answered, without any hesitation. “But you were right to walk away. I was a selfish, ignorant arsehole that took you for granted. You deserve to be with someone who puts you first.

The pair stood there, silently staring at the floor, waiting for the other to say something. Fred had a million more things that he wanted to say, but he was afraid if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. After a minute, the silence got the best of him.

“Do you remember when I proposed to you?” Fred whispered, feigning interest in a hangnail on his thumb.

“You mean the morning you barged in while I was showering and screamed ‘Will you marry me’?” Hermione said with a soft laugh. “Yeah, it was quite memorable.”

“I carried that ring around for over a month. I had these grand plans of taking you out for a fancy dinner, a carriage ride through the park, and then find a secluded spot where I could tell you how beautiful you are and how much you have changed my life for the better. I’d get down on one knee and, surrounded by a million stars, ask you to be my wife.” Fred cleared his throat and finally looked up. “I was so scared though that you would say no. I thought for sure I would ask and you’d finally wake up to the fact that you were too good for me. I asked you that morning because I had told myself that if you said no, I could at least make a quick getaway and save myself some embarrassment.”

“I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy,” he continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Roger is a good bloke.”

“He is,” Hermione agreed. “Almost too good. He was way too understanding when I told him I couldn’t marry him and ran out on our wedding.”

Fred didn’t think a person could choke on air, but he somehow managed it at that surprise announcement. Once he recovered, he asked in disbelief, “What? Why would you do that?”

“I couldn’t do it. I stood there, at the end of the aisle, on my father’s arm and I was paralyzed.” She twisted a wayward curl around her finger and bit her bottom lip. “All I could do was stare at the man waiting for me and think that he wasn’t the one I wanted there. I guess I’m always thinking about you, too,” she admitted.

“Hermione, I--I don’t--” Fred stuttered. He took a deep breath and held a finger up, saying, “Can you give me a few minutes?”

Before Hermione could answer, Fred turned and ran back through the store, into the stockroom, and up the stairs to his flat. His mind was several steps ahead of his body and he banged against the door, forgetting he had actually locked it. “Dammit! _Alohamora!_ ,” he shouted, waving his wand.

Once he was finally inside, he bolted into his bedroom, kicked aside the piles of clothes, and dove under his bed. Amongst old trainers and chocolate frog cards, Fred seized a small wooden keepsake box. Inside, along with pictures and mementos was a small red ring box. He took it out and maneuvered his way back out. When he sat back and brushed a dust bunny from his eye, he found himself staring up at Hermione.

“I know this is crazy and I don’t deserve it, but I would be forever grateful for another chance to show you how important you are to me. You didn’t just make my life better, you made me a better man. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days, by your side, lighting up your life like you’ve lit up mine.” Fred pushed himself up, onto one knee, held up the open box, and said, “Hermione, will you marry me?”

Hermione didn’t answer right away. She stared at the ring and then at him. Fred was ready to crawl back under the bed when she finally said, “On one condition.”

“Anything you want.”

“We run off and you marry me today.”

“Anywhere, in particular, you want to run off to?”

“Surprise me.”

Fred grinned as he slipped the ring on her finger and stood up. “You know our parents are going to kill us?”

“As long as I’m with you,” Hermione said, pulling him close until her lips met his.


End file.
